


Where Three Gather

by azurefishnets



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Just a short little thing, Missing Moments, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurefishnets/pseuds/azurefishnets
Summary: This is just a short little thing, a moment in the lives of eldritch basketball wizards, but I hope it was enjoyable even despite its brevity. Happy Chocobox!
Relationships: Soliam Murr & Gol Golathanian & Ha'ub the Swallow
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Where Three Gather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hecleretical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecleretical/gifts).



The Downside, Gol was coming to understand, was never completely quiet. Even if the Howlers were to shut up for five minutes, the far noises of the Titans never did as they roamed the land. One of the Time-Singer’s restless dreams had stalked them earlier, the nightmarish visage slipping and out of reality as Harn sought his prey. It was Ha’ub that had successfully drawn it away earlier, returning hours later with a crow of triumph and a brace of fish, which he was currently roasting over the fire.

Gol sighed. They hadn’t enjoyed fish in Sahr, when it had been delicately marinated in the finest of white wines and garnished with capers, or on the front lines, when it was flavored with the sourness of his Emperor’s betrayal, and in the Downside all food tasted somewhat of the dust and ashes that permeated the air. But one had to eat, and make one's Emperor eat if necessary, so Gol pasted on something that might be called a smile and strolled over to Soliam Murr, who sat staring into the flames.

“My Lord Soliam,” Gol said respectfully, and when that failed to get an answer, “Emperor!” Soliam Murr seemed to sink in a little more into himself.

“Just Soliam, General,” he said at last, still staring at the fire, the flames reflecting in the white of his milky irises. “I claim nothing else. I would even remove the ownership of that name from myself, but all still know me and so I must answer to something.”

Ha’ub chimed in cheerfully that he would be happy to call either of them any name of their choosing; he understood “blockhead” was a term of friendliness in the Sahrian language?

Gol hissed, “It is _not._ You can’t call an Emperor such a thing!”

Ha’ub rocked backward, chittering with laughter at having successfully tweaked Gol’s nose, and added that, in that case, “blockhead” would be his especial nickname for his new friend Gol alone. Gol’s mouth reluctantly quirked upward.

“Fine. I’m sure I shall have the chance to return the favor of naming at some point,” Gol said, checking the fish and deciding, to his dismay, that it was done as it was like to get. Ha’ub found some big leaves that he assured his companions were only the slightest bit poisonous, just enough to add a slight acidic tang, and they settled in to eat with their hands.

Soliam, as ever, was inclined to morose silence. Ha’ub ate with fierce concentration. Gol took one bite and nearly spat their fish out. It was dreadful, ashy and burnt in places and raw and acidic in others. They couldn’t eat this. He rose and took Soliam’s leaf, though the man ate with stolid indifference, and threw the whole thing in the river. Soliam only sat and watched it, as if this new betrayal was no more than he deserved.

“I’m sorry, my Lord. I’ll find you something else.” Goliam went to their pack, hoping to at least find a ration bar left, even mushy and stale as it might be, but Ha’ub had eaten them all. He ranged out from the camp, finally bringing back a selection of mushrooms and produce that Ha’ub had indicated was probably safe.

“General,” Soliam said after Gol brought back this meager offering, “I would have eaten the fish. You did not have to go any special lengths for me.”

“Perhaps not,” said Gol, a little sourly, “but having already shown you mercy once I couldn’t let you perish now.”

Soliam blinked, then snorted, a chuckle rising to what, to Gol’s ear, sounded like slightly hysterically-tinged laughter. “Oh, very good, Master-General. You gave our fish so that I might yet have dinner.”

Ha’ub began laughing too, an imp chuckle, and he fluttered to sit on Gol’s head and tell them that he’d teach them both the ways of Downside food.

Gol rolled their eyes, but Soliam’s laugh, something he had heard all too rarely, was too dear to regret the chuckle at his expense. Let them eat fish then, if it pleased them. Any food was better when eaten with ones he could laugh with. They looked forward to their laughter all the more, if it meant that the burden of the Downside was lightened even for a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short little thing, a moment in the lives of eldritch basketball wizards, but I hope it was enjoyable even despite its brevity. Happy Chocobox!


End file.
